


Blood on my Hands

by Elvesliketrees



Series: Home is Where You Are [2]
Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Azanulbizar, Exile, F/M, Feels, Gen, PTSD, Very bloody and sad, seriously
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-07-17
Updated: 2015-02-08
Packaged: 2018-02-09 05:24:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 11
Words: 19,835
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1970604
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elvesliketrees/pseuds/Elvesliketrees
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The history of Thorin Oakenshield and his company after the dragon attack.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Far, Far Away

**Author's Note:**

> Stop right there! If you have not read the first fic in this series; "Loyalty, Honor, and a Willing Heart", then I HIGHLY recommend you do so, or else you won't know what's happening!

The dwarves of Erebor slowly moved towards Laketown. It was a good walk, but it needed to be done, and it was the closest city away from the dragon. The thousand or so refugees moved very slowly, led by Prince Thorin. King Thror was mad as ever, and Prince Thrain was lost in his deep grief. The Princess Dis and Prince Frerin were trying to comfort him, but to no avail. Balin and Dwalin, with Fundin, walked just behind Thorin. The prince had never been gladder to have his friends, they were rocks in this trying time. It was only a few hours since the attack, and all were mourning for those lost. The city once held ten thousand dwarves, and everyone had lost someone. Only a handful of miners made it out, and none of those from the forges. They'd also lost Princess Merin, Lady Berra, Lord Groin, and too many others. There were many wounded, and there were too few guards. They finally stopped at the edge of the Long Lake. Thorin stood on a rock to gather everyone's attention. "Some of you gather water from the lake! Holdir, go to that tree with all the healers, any wounded should be brought there. I need volunteers to gather food, and others to help guard the camp!" he commanded. Holdir did as instructed, and Thorin thanked Mahal that he and Lora had the sense to evacuate the healers and their patients. A dwarf who introduced himself as Bifur and Dwalin were the first two to sign up for the guard. Fundin started to organize familes, and Balin was taking care of any unclaimed dwarflings. Every dwarf was trying to find his or her family, and many of the unclaimed dwarflings were being scooped up by relatives or family friends. Finally, all the children were claimed and the families were starting to get somewhat organized. The gatherers came back with next to nothing, the plants were not yet growing, and the fire had scorched much. "Does anyone have any food? We need to distribute it amongst the people," Thorin asked. A dwarf named Barlyn, his wife Renna, and Barlyn's brother Harlyn came up with two packs filled with food. Lora came up with a basket, and some other families, in their wisdom, had packed food. "Dwarrowdams that are with child will be fed first, and then the dwarflings. All extra will be doled out as evenly as possible," Thorin said. They were still hungry after their meal, but it was still something. Thorin looked to see Gloin and Oin trying to coax Orla into eating.

"Come on Mam, please, just for us!" Gloin pleaded.

"Ya have ta eat!" Oin pressed. He was preparing to go on guard duty, his staff already in hand, but it was obvious that he wouldn't leave until Orla was taken care of. Orla just shook her head, divided up her portion, and handed it to her sons. Gloin huddled closer to her, and Oin shook his head.

"It'll be alright, Mam, you'll see," he whispered. She sniffled and pulled him into a crushing embrace. Dwalin was staring into the fire, not touching the food Fundin was attempting to feed him. Balin was eating mechanically. The family of six miners was doing alright, though it was obvious that the children were horrified by what they saw. Lora was sitting by the fire with Holdir's arm around her shoulders, Dori asleep in her lap. She took off her cloak and spread it over the dwarfling. She was gazing into the fire as if it would hold the answers to her silent questions.

"What is it?" Holdir asked.

"What are going to do? I mean, we have no food, shelter, weapons, or medicine, and we've got a little one on the way!" she said heavily.

"We're going to be fine, Lora. I'm here, you're here, and Dori's here. That's allot more than most can speak of right now," he said quietly. Lora sniffled and nodded.

"You're right, we're together, that's all that matters," Lora said.

"The baby will be fine, I won't let anything happen to it, I promise," Holdir swore. He kissed Lora, and they settled down to sleep. The other dwarrows soon followed suit, and Thorin was left alone. He felt a hand on his shoulder. He turned round and gazed into the eyes of his father.

"The guards have just started their rounds. Come my son, you've done enough for one day," he said softly. He led Thorin over to where Frerin and Dis were already asleep. He settled him in between them, and Frerin immediately snuggled into his brother's shoulder. Thrain lay across their front, placing them protectively in between himself and the rock they were currently sheltering behind. They woke often that night, as did all the others in the camp. Whenever Thorin woke up, he would always feel Father's, or Frerin's, or Dis' fingers combing gently through his hair. This had become a traditional calming method amongst the family over the years, as it was the best thing to lull the children to sleep when they were small. Thorin clutched onto Frerin as he sobbed during the night, and they told stories to Dis when she awoke from the nightmares. Their father even hummed them a lullaby in the deep watches of the night. The morning dawned, and the exhausted dwarrows rose from their fitfull slumber. They ate the rest of the food and continued towards Laketown. Thorin prayed that they would be there by evening. As they were preparing to move out, Balin came up to him.

"What are we going to be doing in Laketown?" Balin asked.

"When we get to the city proper, I'll have the people pool together any gold that they have. We'll use that to buy supplies; food, packs, tents, medicine, and weapons," Thorin instructed.

"A wise plan, and then?" Balin asked.

"My grandfather will let us know where to go next," Thorin said, without any real hope that it would actually happen. Thror hadn't spoken since the attack. He turned towards the refugees and they all hushed.

"Let's get moving, we need to be in Laketown before evening!" Thorin commanded. He, Balin, and Dwalin led the exiles forwards. Fundin, Dis, Thrain, and Frerin came behind them, with Thror trailing behind them. The rest of the dwarrows moved behind them in a great mass. Orla, Gloin, and Oin let the dwarflings and pregnant dwarrowdams ride their ponies. Orla looked at everyone blankly, Gloin was forced to steer her along. Oin and Bifur, along with some others, were at the sides, acting as guards. They moved as quickly as they could, only stopping once. They finally reached the border of the town as the sun was beginning to reach its peak. The gatekeeper opened the gates and sighed.

"We heard the news, you have money?" he demanded warily.

"Yes, what is it to you?" Thorin asked.

"We have enough refugees from Dale, don't need no more. You can buy your supplies and camp here tonight. In the mornin', you must be gone," the gatekeeper commanded.

"Balin, Orla, Holdir, and Father, come with me into the town proper. Fundin and Grandfather are in command in our absence," Thorin stated, "Prepare to make camp." They went into the town proper. Orla knew all of the good merchants, Balin was able to bargain them down, Holdir knew what medicine was needed, and Thrain supervised. When all was done, they had enough food for two months if they scrimped, enough tents for everyone if there were three families to a tent, a healing tent, packs, some medicine, and some weapons.

"Not as much medicine or weapons as I'd like, and we couldn't get any armor," Thrain sighed.

"We did well, considering how much money we had," Thorin reminded him. Thrain sighed and nodded his head.

"I'm sorry, you're right. We have some weapons and medicine, and it'll have to see us through," he stated. They went back to the dwarrows and began pitching the tents. The twins skipped over and hugged Thorin's legs.

"Thank you for the tents, Prince Thorin!" the child, Thorin thought his name was Bofur, chirped happily. Renna pulled the twins off in horror, but Thorin waved her off.

"You should thank King Thror, as well," Thorin said with a smile, and the twins did so.

"You're quite welcome, little ones," Thror said neutrally, "Now, which tent is ours?"

"We'll be staying with myself, Thorin, Dis, Frerin, Fundin, Balin, Dwalin, Orla, Gloin, and Oin," Thrain said resolutely. Thror appeared flabbergasted.

"Don't worry Grandfather, everyone else is in the same situation as us, the only ones who'll be getting a tent to themselves is the healers, and we all know why that is," Dis quipped. Thror had the common sense to look ashamed. Thrain and his children walked off with Balin and Dwalin.

"Why'd you let him take all the credit?" Dwalin demanded once they were out of earshot.

"For tents?" Thorin asked.

"Yes," Dwalin responded, "You shouldn't have given him credit."

"He had to brother," Balin responded wearily, "Whether we like it or not, the people need their king, and we can't undermine him. When things get more stable, we'll talk about how to deal with Thror."

"He's right, for now Thror must be in charge," Thrain sighed.

"And if he makes a stupid decision?" Dwalin asked.

"Then we deal with it when he thinks of it," Frerin said. They all had their dinner and headed towards their tent. Orla, Gloin, Oin, Thror, and Fundin were already inside.

"Don't worry King Thror, I don't take up much room!" Gloin chirped, ignorant of the king's righteous indignation.

"Aye, that you don't brother mine," Oin said before Thror could say something insulting. Orla kissed both boys goodnight and Thrain did the same with his children. When it was in the dark of the night, Thorin heard Dis stirring.

"Dis?" he yawned.

"Thorin?" she whispered from her bedroll, so as not to disturb anyone.

"What?" he responded.

"We'll be alright, won't we?" she asked meekly. Thorin rolled over and looked at his sister. Never had he seen her this vulnerable.

"Aye Dis, we'll be alright," he said more resolutely than he felt. Dis nodded, and soon he heard the deep breathes of her sleep. He prayed to Mahal that he hadn't just lied. The next morning, Thorin was putting things in his pack when Thrain walked into the tent.

"Thror wants to see us, we need to make a decision on where we're going," Thrain said with a smile.

"Finally," Thorin sighed in relief. Maybe his grandfather was finally seeing sense.


	2. The Journey to Nowhere

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thror makes a decision as to where the dwarves are headed, and none are sure if they like it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, I am SO sorry for dropping of the face of the planet! Here's another chapter:)

Thorin sighed in relief as he realized that his grandfather was finally beginning to make some decisions for himself. He strode out of the tent with Thrain and went to the healer's tent. Inside were Dis, Frerin, Fundin, Balin, and Thror. They all looked tired, Thorin noticed as he and Thrain sat in the circle they'd made on the ground. "Where did you think that we would be heading, Father?" Thrain asked quietly, and a little cautiously. Thror leaned forward, a strange gleam in his eye.

"The Iron Hills are the closest, but they cannot take one thousand refugees. Three of the five kingdoms are in the same state, so that only leaves us with one," he said.

"Surely you don't mean Ered Mithrin?!" Thrain asked incredulously. The kingdom of Ered Mithrin was far to the north, and the way was incredibly dangerous, even in the summer, and winter was only just loosening its grip. It was a good two months trip with no delays or stops, and they only had supplies for two months if they stretched. They had dwarrowdams and dwarflings with them, and very few things to combat the elements. However, Ered Mithrin was the smallest of the kingdoms and would easily house them.

"I do mean Ered Mithrin, though we won't stay there. We will dispatch ten riders, two for each kingdom, to ride and have the lords meet us at Ered Mithrin. We can then discuss who can take us, or scout out a good settlement," Thror explained.

"So you will have us attempt an incredibly dangerous and cold journey, just for a rest?!" Thrain cried incredulously.

"We have no other choice!" Thror thundered.

"We have dwarrowdams and dwarflings with us, Grandfather! We cannot do this!" Dis retorted.

"You will hold your tongue, girl!" Thror bit. Dis drew herself up, a thunderous expression on her face.

"You have asked my daughter for her words, and she will give them freely," Thrain said harshly. Dis sat down once more.

"My king, it may be better to risk the Iron Hills, even if we cannot fit in them, they can give us supplies to camp outside and recuperate," Fundin advised as a pale Balin sat beside him and listened.

"He's right Grandfather, there's no fault in going for help. The Iron Hills will aid us, I know it!" Thorin said convincingly.

"I am king, and my word is law. Thorin, inform the people that make for Ered Mithrin," Thror said haughtily as he flounced out of the tent.

"We're all going to die," Frerin said quietly. Thrain put his arms around his son.

"We're not going to die Frerin, I won't let it happen, I promise you," Thorin swore as he joined his father and brother.

"You might not have a choice, Thorin. We've got no arms, no shelter, and the people have their wives and children,"  Dis whispered thickly, "We might not make it through this one."

"Why will he not go to the Iron Hills?" Balin asked quietly.

"Remember this, my son," Fundin said wearily, "A king's pride is a dangerous thing. Thror is too proud to beg for help. With Ered Mithrin, he can discuss plans with the dwarf lords, and it won't seem like begging." Balin nodded and they walked out of the tent. Thorin gathered the people.

"Today, we make for Ered Mithrin! Gather your things, we leave in one hour!" Thorin commanded wearily. Thrain and the rest of his family were already packing up the tent.

"But isn't that really far?" Dori piped up. Lora shushed him and looked around for Thror fearfully. Thorin felt his stomach sink into his toes.

"Yes Dori, it is very far to the north, two months journey. It's going to be very cold, but the people will have nice, warm houses for us," Thorin tried to encourage. There was a rumbling of worried assent over the people.

"He's right, we cannot stay 'ere," Barlyn said wearily, "People of the town 'ave enough refugees of their own kind."

"I need ten volunteers, two to ride to each of the five kingdoms. We will use what little we have saved up to buy seven more ponies and a little food for the journey. You will summon each lord to meet at Ered Mithrin, and let the lord of the Ered Mithrin know that we march upon him one thousand dwarrows in need of food and shelter," Thorin commanded. Harlyn, Bifur, and eight others stepped forward. They were given the three ponies in addition to the seven, and Bofur, Boffa, Barlyn, and Renna bid a teary goodbye to their relatives. They watched them ride off into the morning sun. They then packed up their belongings and moved farther and farther away from the only home they knew. Thorin hefted his pack and spared one last look back. The Lonely Mountain could barely be seen in the distance. He felt tears spring to his eyes as he realized how much he'd left there. "I'll be back Mama, I swear," he whispered tearfully. He felt a hand on his shoulder, and looked into Dwalin's eyes.

"Just promise me one thing," his friend whispered.

"And what is that?" Thorin asked.

"When you go, take me with you," he whispered, as vulnerable as Thorin had ever seen him.

"Always," Thorin said as he clasped arms with his dearest friend. Balin came up and tried to smile at them.

"Come, you're both needed at the front," Balin said. And so they marched. They marched until their feet were sore and bleeding, and they did not stop until the sun was almost setting. The husbands helped their wives along, and the mothers carried their children without complaint. Thorin climbed a large hill and looked down the hill at his people. Dwalin, Balin, Fundin, and Thrain were coming along behind him. Dis was with the other dwarrowdams, and Frerin was helping Grandfather along. His people stretched behind him in one long, straggling line. Orla was still being led along with Gloin. She'd refused to eat, and she was beginning to look it. The guards walked on the outskirts of the line. When they stopped for the night, they barely had the strength to eat what little dinner they had. Oin watched his mother and brother, both of whom were sound asleep. She'd refused food again that night. He had her steaming bowl in his hands.

"Why are we not enough, Mam?" he asked quietly, "I've already had to bury me Da, and I can't bury you. Why aren't Gloin and I enough?! Do you not love us? Is your love for us not strong enough? You can't leave! I can't raise Gloin, hell I can't even raise meself! Why can't you see that you're needed?! I loved Da, but he wouldn't want you to die with him, he'd want you to go forward, Gloin and I at your side! I'm not going to beg, you won't listen. I'll not even ask. I know that none of the prayers in the world would convince you to stay if you didn't have a mind." Oin felt tears stream down his cheeks. He lurched up and walked over to where Lora, Holdir, and Dori were sitting, to give the uneaten soup to them, the rations shouldn't go to waste. As Oin walked away, Orla's eyes opened, and she shook with sobs. That morning was filled with apologies on her part and tears from the boys, and she finally ate her breakfast. A week later, they came upon their first, and last town of men. This town was the only one on their way north. It stood near border of Greenwood. The Misty Mountains loomed ahead, and they would have to come around the north side of them before journeying farther to the northwest.

"We should stop here, some of us have wares to sell, and we can use the money to buy more food for the journey," Thrain observed.

"Agreed, I'll tell the people to make ready," Fundin declared. They agreed to stop there for one day to sell any of their wares that would be bought. Bofur and Boffa were excited about this development that morning. They raced up to their mother and put on their most pleading looks.

"Mother, may please, _please_ , go and explore the town when they go in?" Boffa begged.

"We'll stay right with the merchants!" Bofur pleaded. Renna sighed and looked at them both.

"You promise to stay within sight of the merchants?" she asked firmly.

"Yes!" they both chorused.

"Then you may, but make no mischief!" Renna chuckled. Bofur and Boffa each gave her a peck on the cheek and dashed off. Renna's eyes widened as she watched Dori chase after them.

"Oh no you don't!" Holdir laughed as he scooped up Dori in his arms.

"Wanna go!" Dori protested.

"You're much too young to be wandering around a market by yourself, when you're older, you can go, and you might even be able to take your baby brother or sister with you!" Holdir responded. Dori's eyes lit up, and Holdir carried him over to where Lora was washing their clothes in the stream. She sighed as Dori snuggled against her side and promptly went to sleep.

"What happens if he wanders off in the wilderness?" she said worriedly.

"Then we'll find him. Don't worry, everything will be fine!" Holdir responded. He wrapped an arm around his wife and held her closely. They both looked about the camp and were finally content. Bofur and Boffa joined up with the merchants and went into the city.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What did you think? Please comment! I only made five dwarf kingdoms since Moria and Erebor (two of the seven) are now uninhabitable.


	3. They Hate Us

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The dwarves learn that the men outside of Dale do not enjoy the company of dwarrows.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay you guys, this chapter is going to be pretty scary and sad. WARNING for child endangerment and abuse, violence, racism, and gore. Also, I've been thinking about theme songs for the characters, and I've come up with the first one! Thorin- Fall Out Boy's "The Phoenix", yay!

Bofur and Boffa held hands and looked around in wonder. The market of the human town was not nearly as large as the market in Dale, but it was still pretty big. The dwarven merchants had set up their stalls and humans were coming in to look at their wares. All in all, it seemed to be going very well. Boffa's twin braids bounced up and down with her motions while Bofur's single braid swished back and forth down his back. Boffa tugged at his hand and pulled him forward...away from the merchants. "No Boffa!" he said as firmly as he could manage, "Ma said to stay with the merchants!"

"But there are toys over there! And we'll be within sight!" Boffa protested. She turned large hazel eyes towards her elder brother of one hour, and he sighed. He could never really say no to Boffa, she was his sister, and he did everything in his power to make her happy in this life. It was especially important now, since they'd lost so many friends.

"Alright, but we stay within sight!" he relented. Boffa squealed and drew him towards the toys. They stood there for what seemed hours, content with just looking and watching the toymakers. The toymakers started to close their stalls for lunch, and the two found somewhere else to entertain themselves. They walked over to where the men were selling food, they were still within eyesight of the merchants, but they were pretty far off. They watched as children scampered about, men haggled and sold, and women walked around with babies on their hips or across their backs. They watched a baker as he pounded and kneeded dough into a big ball, which he then put on a tray and into an outdoor brick oven-like thing. The beautiful smells drifted towards the dwarflings and they sighed.

"Don't you have anywhere else to be?" the baker growled, "If you don't have coin, be on your way. I won't have you thievin' any of me stock." Bofur apologized and pulled Boffa away. They went to another stall and watched the man working leather. The stall next to the leather-worker's was another bakery. This one was operated by a robust and enormous woman. She made pies, bread, cookies, and cakes of all different kinds. Bofur saw a child with twin braids much like Boffa's walking silently up to her stall. _What is that lad doing_ Bofur thought confusedly. Just then, the child ducked and snatched a large loaf of bread. The woman, however, saw him.

"Thief!" she screeched. The child darted right past Bofur and Boffa. The owner's finger pointed at Boffa. "Sieze that thing, he stole my bread!" she yelled. Hands were instantly reaching for Boffa, and the dwarven merchants looked on in shock. Bofur had to think quickly. He knew that this wouldn't end well, Uncle Harlyn told him what the men did to thieves in the towns. Children came easily to humans, they weren't as gentle with them as dwarves were. He yanked on Boffa's arm and sprinted off. He dearly wished that they'd stayed with Ma and Da as they ran through the town. Finally, Bofur saw a gap in between buildings and ran into it with Boffa panting behind him. They ended up at wall. Boffa started to sob.

"What do we do?" she whimpered. Bofur yanked out the tie to his braid, and gave it to her. He undid hers and started to braid twin braids. She got the idea and started to braid his braid into her locks. "You can't," she whispered.

"Hide. When they find me, get out of the town and get Ma and Da," he commanded. She nodded and hid in a barrel. She'd only just hidden when the men came thundering into the alley. The first baker they met latched onto his arm and hoisted him in the air. Bofur started to thrash, but a good shaking stopped his attempts.

"Knew there was somethin' off about the two of 'em when they were starin' at me product," the baker growled, "Now, where's your little friend?"

"He's gone, he didn't do nothin', so he ran to his Ma!" Bofur protested.

"She only saw the one," another man put in. There were grumbles of assent and they walked out of the alleyway, Bofur still hoisted in the air. They came into the town square and Bofur was thrown down. Before he could run, his arms were grabbed. A stern and weathered man came up and looked him over.

"What should we do with 'im captain?" the baker asked what was probably the captain of the guard. There were dwarrows on the outskirts of the crowd, merchants. They glared daggers at the humans, but they couldn't intervene in the justice of the town.

"Well lad, what have you to say for yourself?" the captain demanded. If he proclaimed innocence, they would think that Boffa did it. Therefore, Bofur remained stubbornly silent. "Very well," the captain sighed, "We give him the standard thirty lashes as a warning. Tie him to the post." The merchants protested loudly at this, but they could do nothing. Bofur's hands were tied to a post and his back was bared. He heard the someone walk behind him. There was a whoosh, and his back flared with seering pain. He did not cry out, though the pain brought tears to his eyes. On the sixth lash, he yelled. Someone jeered that the captain had done harder just yesterday, to give the thief his full punishment. After that, the lashes were much harder. By the end, Bofur was screaming and sobbing.

"What is the meaning of this?!!" a voice boomed. Someone finished undoing the ties and Bofur was tossed to the ground. Through his tears he saw Prince Thrain and Prince Thorin, along with thirty armed dwarrows. Boffa was clinging to Da and sobbing hysterically, and Ma was crying too.

"Caught him thievin'," a townsperson murmured.

"It wasn't him, like I've been trying to tell you!" a merchant protested, "You're looking for a human lad. The first you chased was a dwarf lass, and this was the one with the single braid, not the twin. I think that they switched."

"So you beat an innocent dwarfling?!" Prince Thorin yelled. The captian flinched.

"He didn't say anything!" he said weakly.

"He was probably scared that you'd track down the lass," the merchant observed. Prince Thorin nodded towards his mother and father, and they both dashed up to him.

"Renna, take Boffa, I'll need to carry him," Da said quietly, "Come here now lad, I've got ya. Now this might hurt, but we'll be back at camp before ye know it." Bofur felt hands grip under his legs and gently hook under his back. He arched and gave a scream of pain, but his father held on. He felt himself being lifted carefully into the air and he saw Da's worried face. He was put over his Da's shoulder, and he buried his face in his Da's thick, black locks. "Sorry lad, figured that this would be easier than carryin' you the way I usually do, now let's go see Master Holdir," Da soothed. Ma came up beside them with a crying Boffa in her arms. Boffa was gasping and trying to calm down, and Ma ran her fingers through his hair. They started to walk away, and Bofur could hear the other dwarves coming in behind them. Prince Thrain came up beside Da and threw him a worried look.

"I'm so sorry Barlyn," he whispered, "I had no idea that they would react this way to us."

"Ya couldn't have known, none of us could've. We'll just have to be more careful," Da whispered.

"Aye, it worries me that this happened so close to Erebor, I cringe to think what could happen in a settlement with less experience with our people," Thrain sighed. Prince Thorin came up and hefted Boffa into his arms. He turned to Ma and began rubbing circles on Boffa's back.

"There there now little one, he'll be fine with Master Holdir's help," he soothed, "I can take care of her, go on and be with your son." Ma nodded her thanks and Prince Thorin let Boffa play with his braids. Bofur's back was on fire, and he tried not to show his pain. However, Da stumbled and unknowingly grasped Bofur's back. He screamed in agony and Da apologized too many times to count. They soon saw the tents and Master Holdir running up.

"What happened?" he demanded.

"They beat 'im before we got there, they were just finished when we showed up," Da hissed.

"I'll take him, come with me to the healing tent," Master Holdir said as he gently lifted Bofur. They went into the healing tent, and a beaten tub they'd purchased in Laketown was filled with water. "Let's get his shirt off and bathe him so that we can get at the cuts. Renna, talk to him and keep him occupied, Barlyn and Thrain, I'll need you to hold his arms and legs, the more he thrashes, the more it'll hurt," Holdir commanded. They peeled off his shirt, which hurt like anything, and Ma paled.

"Oh Mahal, my poor baby, what have they done?" she breathed.

"Bastards!" his father swore. Ma hit him on the arm and gestured with her head towards Bofur, and Da blushed and cleared his throat.

"Lora, fetch me my needle and thread, he'll need a good amount of stitches," Holdir sighed. Bofur was given a pain tonic and they began to wash and stitch him wounds. Ma kept talking to him the whole time, as did Da and Prince Thrain sometimes. When they were done, bandages were wrapped around Bofur's chest, a pad to keep them from getting jarred, and then a second layer of bandages. Master Holdir gave him bed rest for two weeks. "Though I don't know how he'll get it on the road," he murmured.

"I'll carry him," Da said stoutly.

"If you grow tired, let me know and I can arrange for some help. We owe you at least that for this mess," Prince Thrain murmured, "I told my father to forbid dwarflings in the town without guards or parents, but he said that would only make the settlement suspicious, as if they weren't already."

"Thank you, and ye aren't at fault, it's those men that are," Ma told him quietly.

"Thank you Renna, Barlyn, you're too kind," Thrain whispered, "My family can take Boffa for the night."

"I'm so proud of ye," Da whispered, "Ye protected yer baby sister by takin' her place, though neither of ye did wrong. Ye did well, my son." Bofur smiled and nuzzled into the bedroll that served as a pillow.

"Sleep now, we'll have to move out in the morn," Ma whispered as she undid his twin braids and ran her fingers through his hair.

\---

Thorin took Boffa out to a rock and settled her on his lap. He let her cry herself out, he knew that nothing he could say would bring comfort. He knew what he'd be feeling right now if he was in her place. Finally, Boffa's sobs receded into hiccups.

"Ye, ye think they'll still love me?" she whispered tearfully.

"Who will, your parents and Bofur?" he asked incredulously. Boffa nodded meekly. He grasped her chin and made her look into his eyes. "You were very brave today, Boffa, don't forget that. You were the one who got help for your brother, and you were smart enough to stay hidden when they took him," he said.

"But it's all me fault!" she wailed.

"It is _not_ your fault! You didn't steal anything and you remained in sight of the merchants as your mother commanded, you did no wrong. The fault lies in that thief, the captain, and the town in general. You cannot feel guilty about the actions of others," Thorin stated.

"But Bofur took the punishment!" she protested.

"That was his decision, and you can't blame yourself for that. You can't feel guilty about other people's choices. I would've done the same thing for Frerin or Dis in his place. He was being an older brother and protecting you, as he ought, though neither of you should've been whipped," Thorin said heavily.

"So what do I do?" she whimpered.

"You'll probably be with us tonight, but tomorrow you can help your Ma and Da carry packs and be there for Bofur. You have to be with him now, do you understand?" Thorin asked. Boffa nodded, and for the rest of the night Boffa would point at a star in the sky, and Thorin would tell her which constellation it belonged to. That night, Boffa slept between Thorin and Frerin, with Dis next to Thorin and Thrain curled up protectively at their feet. Thror slept away from the others, Balin and Dwalin curled up at the far side of the tent with Fundin, and Orla, Gloin, and Oin were protected at the back. Thorin turned over and Dis sighed next to him.

"What's on your mind?" she whispered.

"Today," he sighed.

"The whipping?" Dis asked.

"Yes and no," Thorin sighed.

"Interesting answer," Dis mused.

"He wasn't there," Thorin sighed. Dis turned over and looked at him confusedly.

"Father told Grandfather to be careful who to let in that damn town, and nothing was done! When we brought him back, Grandfather just stared and did nothing. He never helped the family, never asked about him, didn't offer them words of comfort. He did nothing, and that's the worst thing a king can over do," Thorin whispered vehemently.

"He didn't do nothing, Thorin. We are the royal family, and we are the right hand of the king. When we do something, we are doing it in his place, whether he gives two fucks about that thing or no. When the king messes up, we're the diplomats you see at your front gate, when he does something good, we  just smile and nod when the people praise him. What you did today helped that family, and showed them that the king, or the royal family to be more specific, cares about its people, and you did well. You will make a great king someday brother, as long as you remember this. You are nothing without you're people. You're not better than them, and you're not a god, you're a dwarf. The most important thing in your life will be your people, and you must never forget that," Dis whispered. She then rolled over, and soon she fell asleep. Thorin pondered her words, and did not sleep that night.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Uh-oh! What did you think? I figured that the twins would be identical, and that's why Renna and Barlyn gave them different hairstyles, to tell them apart. I thought that this was feasible, since dwarrowdams grow beards like dwarf men, so you wouldn't really be able to tell them apart unless you looked closely. I also figured that Thrain would have a bit more of a realistic idea of how the humans will react to them. As to how he knows the Ur clan, I figured that since there are only about a thousand refugees, and some probably split off to make for relatives in the Iron Hills (which was way closer), Thrain and the rest of the royal family would be getting to know allot of people they ordinarily wouldn't.


	4. We Walk a Lonely Road

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The dwarves hit the road, Bofur starts the road to recovery, and the king might be getting worse.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another chapter guys, enjoy! In other news, another character theme! Balin- Superchick's "Breathe".

When morning dawned, the dwarves of Erebor moved out onto the road once again. The days were starting to grow colder as they fought their way north, and the nights often left them shivering. Thorin stood and looked at the great Misty Mountains as the sun turned them into the color of blood. Dwalin stood beside him and shuffled. The wind blew Thorin's cloak back in great waves, he might have enjoyed the effect if he was not busy worrying over the mountains. Any dwarf with a lick of sense knew that the mountains were literally infested with goblins of all sorts, though they knew not where they were. "We're sittin' ducks out here Thorin!" Dwalin said vehemently, "If we're attacked, we're done for! I don't know what Thror was thinking, bringin' us out here...no offense to his majesty."

"You have every right to question his decisions, just because he is king does not mean that he will always make good choices. But he _is_ the king, and you and I will follow his lead," Thorin stated.

"You know that I'll follow you and he to the very depths of Mordor," Dwalin said as he dipped his respectfully. Thorin sighed and clasped his shoulder.

"I know that you will, it's just that I'm worried too. We don't have nearly enough guards for a goblin attack. It irks me that Grandfather sent off Bifur and Harlyn. They might not have been great warriors, but they were more handy with a weapon than many here, and we'll need every weapon we can get," Thorin sighed.

"I know, and I don't envy 'em. They're going to have one cold ride to Ered Mithrin," Dwalin chuckled.

"Aye that they will, at least we'll have the warmer walk," Thorin laughed.

"What I wouldn't give for a spiced beer," Dwalin sighed.

"And a good wool blanket," Thorin replied. Dwalin smiled and they both looked back at the trailing line of refugees. Now they had about seven hundred fifty, two hundred fifty had went to relatives in the Iron Hills after the dragon, and Thorin did not blame them. The dwarves were now struggling up the steep hill. The old were being supported by the young, the sick by the healthy. Bofur was being carried by Barlyn, this was his first day of recovery, and he was mostly asleep in his father's arms. That incident should never have happened. His grandfather should have listened to his father's wisdom concerning the town, and yet he had not. He had done nothing, and an innocent dwarfling had paid the price. How many more would pay the price for his family's folly? He knew what the answer on his side would be. None. He would not risk the lives of his people on false hope and dreams. Little did he know that he would risk thirteen good lives almost seventy years later. In the present, however, Thorin, not yet Oakenshield, watched his people climb the hill. Then, he saw Lora. She'd been getting much bigger. They'd been on the road for a month now, and Lora was in her second month of pregnancy (she'd been about four weeks when she went to the healers the day before the attack). Her middle was not very big yet, but she was steadily growing bigger. Dwarrowdams were pregnant for nine months, but the last three were normally spent in bed rest, since miscarriages were so common and pregnancies so hard. They'd been incredibly strict with their rations, and Thorin had seen Holdir divide his share between his wife and son more than a few times. Lora stumbled and fell down with a cry of pain.

"Mam!" Dori wailed as he raced up to her. He'd been "watching" Lora and his sibling while Holdir helped the healers with the sick and old that were forced to be carried on stretchers. Holdir instantly raced to his wife and child. Dori clung to him and cried, but he got his son off as gently as he could.

"Is it the baby, are you in pain?" he demanded as he looked her over.

"No love, I'm just tired, so tired," she whispered. Holdir rubbed her back.

"I know love, we all are tired, and there's too little food," he murmured.

"Just give me a moment to rest, I'll be fine in a few minutes," she sighed.

"Are you sure?" Holdir asked worriedly.

"It's not like I have much choice otherwise," she responded. Thror walked past them and looked down at the family in disdain.

"Get her up, I don't have the time or patience for such antics," he said haughtily.

"Antics?" Holdir demanded, slowly standing himself up. Thrain walked up and put a restraining hand on the dwarrow's arm.

"Father, why do you not go back to the middle of the column, I would not have you so unprotected here," Thrain said cautiously.

"Hmm, oh yes of course. Thrain, I want to be moving in five minutes," he commanded. He walked back down to the middle of the column. Holdir cast his eyes downwards in shame.

"My sincerest apologies Prince Thrain, I am not sure what came over me," he mumbled respectfully.

"No, it is I who owes an apology to you, I would have done more than you if he had insulted Merin like that," Thrain sighed.

"You are too kind, my prince," Holdir said.

"Take as long as you need, this is a hard road for anyone, let alone someone with child. My father can wait," he said. Holdir nodded, and soon they were moving again. The days grew longer, and their marches harder. The wind as fierce an enemy as the goblins, which they saw neither hide nor hair of. The orcs and goblins stayed in their mountains, and they counted this as a blessing. They marched from sunup to sunset at two meals a day. These meals grew smaller and smaller, until they ran out two days out from Ered Mithrin. Panic ensued. Barlyn stepped up, his wife clutching the newly healed Bofur and Boffa.

"We could hunt," he suggested.

"No, we must press on as quickly as we can. The big game isn't out and about yet, and we'll never find enough small game for all. We _must_ press on towards Ered Mithrin and take our food there. It is only two days march, we can handle that!" Thrain commanded.

"Don't worry Ma, he's right," Bofur said quietly.

"We'll get things to eat at Ered Mithrin?" Dori questioned hesitantly, "The baby'll be hungry."

"We'll have an enormous feast, there'll be meat and sweets and everything!" Frerin said boisterously.

"Sweets!" Boffa cheered.

"Then we best be movin' on then, as the prince says," Barlyn commented. They stuck together and marched until their feet bled. Almost all of the decisions were taken either to Thrain or Thorin, no one put much stock in Thror anymore. Dwalin guarded the group as best he could and Balin helped in whatever ways he could. Fundin was a constant presence at Thrain's side, as was Orla much of the time. The dwarrowdam had been given the charge of the finances, and she was beginning to instruct Gloin in her art, as he had a natural talent for it. Bofur, Boffa, and Dori became fast friends, and brought a good amount of joy to the group, along with the ten other dwarflings that had survived. They marched and they marched. On the second day, people started to collapse from exhaustion and hunger. The older grew so weak they couldn't walk, and the young were much too thin. Thorin was so exhausted he couldn't think, and they barely made it through the second day. They were marching on the third when Balin started shouting joyously. Thorin and Dwalin ran up, and there stood Ered Mithrin, tall and proud.

"Oh thank Mahal," Thorin whispered tearfully.

"We're here, everyone, we're here!" Dis cried as she ran to see what the commotion was.

"I can smell the meat now," Frerin cackled. They ran as quickly as they could towards the city, and watched the guards spotted them and opened the gates with cries of welcome and joy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What did you think? I figured there wouldn't be many dwarflings, as their moms would have heard the alarms and hid with their kids, as we saw with Groin's POV.


	5. Arrival

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The exiles arrive at Ered Mithrin, a meeting is conducted, and secrets are finally shared.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay you guys, this is the chapter where we finally learn why Thror lead his people through such a long trek, and where he plans to put them (and it's not Ered Mithrin). I had this in mind when I first started writing the fic, and the next six or seven chapters are going to get pretty hairy for our dwarves.Uh-oh. I found Dwalin's theme :) Shinedown's "I'll Follow you Down", Yay!

Thorin had never felt so relieved to be at the end of a journey. They were all ushered into Ered Mithrin and led straight off to a large eating hall. There, they were given as much food as they could wish for. Thorin saw Harlyn and Bifur reunite with their family, and he smiled at the sight, glad that the two had made it. The royal house, along with Fundin and his family, were seated up at the top of the table. Holdir and his family were somewhere in the middle with Harlyn and his family. Dis was stuffing her mouth full of anything that she could find. Thrain finally grabbed her hand quietly. "Not so much," he whispered, "You'll make yourself sick." Dis nodded quietly and went slower. Soon, Thorin felt stuffed, though he'd eaten only a third of what he'd before considered a scant meal. His father seemed to notice the well of emotions brewing up inside him and patted his back. All of the exiles were soon led to rooms. A servant showed the royal family each to a separate chamber. Thror immediately ran into his while the rest stood out in the hall.

"A real feather bed!" Dis sighed. On his part, Thorin was more excited about a hot bath, and also the warm meal that they'd just gotten.

"Don't get too comfortable, I don't know how long we'll be here. Remember, your grandfather said that this was only a temporary residence," Thrain sighed.

"Maybe he'll change his mind, its not so bad here," Frerin said hopefully.

"Where do you think he'll have us move?" Thorin questioned.

"I have no idea," Thrain sighed as he ran a hand through his hair.

"Maybe he'll have us start a new colony," Frerin put in. Thrain seemed to be in deep thought.

"That may very well be true. If I were him, I would lead us to the Blue Mountains, only things around there are the Grey Havens and the Shire. There are plenty of villages along the way, we could stop each time and earn a bit of coin on the way. All in all, with stops about a month at a time, we could reach it in a few years," Thrain murmured.

"Whatever it is, it can wait till the morrow," Dis sighed as she started herding them through their doors. Thorin stumbled into his room and closed the door. He tossed his clothes on the floor and collapsed into bed. He slept fitfully that night, dreaming of the dragon and of mother, moments they shared, and moments they never would. Finally, in the deepest watches of the night, Thorin slept deeply. He awoke to someone pounding on the door.

"What is it?" he groaned.

"Come, father wants us for breakfast, we're to meet with Grandfather and the seven lords soon after," Dis yelled through the door. Thorin walked over to the wardrobe to find clothes both casual and formal sitting there. He donned formal clothes and walked out to Dis, who was also dressed formally. "Come," she said, "Frerin and Father are already up and about." Thorin and Dis went down to have their first breakfast in two months. He could see Bofur and Boffa running around, the lad was almost fully recovered except for some pain now and then, while Dori struggled to get out of Holdir's grip so that he could follow. Thorin chuckled to himself and went back to his food. He hoped that his grandfather would not make them march far, it would be a hard trip for those such as Lora. She was growing bigger, and in a little over three months she ought to be on bed rest. He knew that that might not happen, not with the way things were going. Perhaps he could convince Grandfather to ask for a cart, so that she and the other sick or young could ride. There would also be room for supplies, and that would help them to save their strength for marching. They finished their breakfast and went to the meeting room. Each lord was there with as many as five advisors. Grandfather, Fundin, and Balin were already there. The rest of the royal family sat down and the meeting began. Gornir, Lord of Ered Mithrin, began with the traditional words. He was old, nearly two hundred fifty, and many believed that his son would soon be coming into his lordship.

"This is the first time in nearly five hundred years that all of the lords have gathered, a special occasion indeed," he concluded. Each of the lords then stood and told of how their realms were progressing, something which was a long-held tradition, though it made Thorin squirm with impatience. Thror concluded the reports with his story of the dragon attack and Balin's census, going over how many warriors, dwarrowdams, and dwarflings had escaped the destruction.

"We are sorry for your loss," Dalin, Lord of the Iron Hills sighed. Dain, Dalin's son, shook his head in sorrow.

"So many lost in so short a time, and so many dwarrowdams and dwarflings," Hofin, Lord of the Broadbeams, sighed.

"What would you have us do?" Gornir asked.

"I would have supplies and gold, of each of you," Thror answered with an odd flame in his eyes.

"To build a new settlement?" Dalin inquired, "For that is what I would advise my friend, and the Iron Hills shall lend all that it can."

"As will the Firebeards!" Lornalin, Lord of the Firebeards, proclaimed.

"Orocani will do all that it can," Lord Promin, the female Lord of Orocani, said stoutly.

"As shall the White Mountains," said Lord Dockan.

"You of course have the support of Ered Mithrin," Gornir said helpfully.

"You believe that I would have my people start from poverty and nothing?" Thror demanded. All of the lords murmured and whispered amongst themselves.

"Where would you have us go, then?" Thrain asked.

"Yes, we'll help in any way that we can," Dalin added.

"I speak of a home that was taken from us," Thror said deeply. A coil of fear wrapped itself around Thorin's heart.

"You surely cannot speak of the dragon! My king, that beast will be _waiting_ for an attack, we cannot strike now! I beg you, wait for a while, and then face the beast!" Fundin pleaded while Balin sat next to him, white as a sheet.

"I am no fool, Fundin! I do not speak of Erebor, that is lost to us, at least for now," Thror sighed. There was only one place that was left for them to take! Surely Grandfather would not be so mad as to go there! Each of the lords was as pale as milk when they came to the same conclusion.

"Khazad-dum?" Gornir whispered, "Thror, that place is infested with orcs, and has been for five-hundred years, I beg of you, do not lead your people there!"

"Yet you have already placed your steel with mine," Thror said resolutely.

"I will not lead my people to death," Dalin said resolutely.

"Nor shall I command my son to lead our people on such a mission," Gornir said stoutly.

"It is madness, Thror," Promin said quietly.

"Father, listen to them!" Thrain pleaded.

"Are you all cowards?!" Thror thundered, "I am your _king_!! I have the right to call the seven lords to battle! I have every right to lead you to battle! Are you forgetting the dead that we left at Khazad-dum!"

"This is what you have us do?" Gornir asked quietly.

"Yes, I would have our people settled there again. And when we take back the mines of old, I will make each of you richer than ever before! I will bring our people home, and once more shall we prosper, so that Erebor will look as silver does next to mithril!" Thror said quietly.

"That place is infested, Father," Thrain said fearfully.

"So is Erebor, and we do not have the strength to reclaim that, and I will not have our people homeless!" Thror hissed.

"Please, my king," Fundin pleaded. Each of the lords looked to the other, and it was Dalin who spoke up first.

"Are you set to do this?" he asked quietly.

"Yes," Thror murmured, "Because we must."

"Grandfather, are you _sure_?" Frerin demanded. Thror nodded slowly.

"Then you shall not march alone," Dalin said. As one, he and Dain stood. "The Iron Hills will march," Dalin said solemnly.

"As shall Ered Mithrin," Gornir said quietly, "My son shall lead our men, bring him back to me Thror."

"I shall, Gornir, you have my word," Thror swore.

"Orocarni will march," Promin said stoutly.

"The White Mountains march with their brethren!" Dockan thundered.

"The Firebeards march!" Lornalin cried.

"The Broadbeams shall go to the halls of old," Hofin said quietly, "Though I fear what we shall find there." Thror clasped his arm.

"I shall bring your people home, Lord Hofin, you have my word on that," Thror promised.

"No, King Thror, the valley of Stormbold is our home, but we shall give you one," Hofin responded.

"What of your dwarrowdams and dwarflings?" Dalin asked.

"We shall need workers when Khazad-dum is taken, they march with us," Thror responded. The other lords nodded. This was rare, but not unheard of in times of war. Thorin stepped up to his grandfather. This was madness, he had to say something! Father grasped him on the shoulder.

"Come," he said quietly. Thrain collected Frerin and Dis and silently led them from the room. When they came to their rooms, Dis punched the wall.

"We cannot allow him to continue, he'll kill us all!" Dis yelled.

"I don't know if I can stop him," Thrain said quietly.

"Then call this what it is, madness! Tell the lords that King Thror is mad, at least Gornir and Hofin will fall in behind you, and the others can probably be persuaded!" Dis thundered, "Take the throne and lead our people."

"I will not usurp your grandfather, and I'll forget that you mentioned it. If I say this is madness, the lords will lose faith in the line of Durin, they may decide that another line may be more suitable for the kingship," Thrain said quietly.

"We cannot march on Khazad-dum," Thorin emphasized.

"He has made his decision, and if he goes back now, the lords will think him weak. Thorin, tomorrow, you and I will go and get fitted for armor," Thrain sighed.

"What about me?" Frerin whispered.

"You won't march. You'll stay with the camp, you're not close enough to age yet, and you aren't nearly as strong as you should be with your close combat weapons, you'll stay behind," Thrain assured him, "As will Dis. Only myself, Thorin, and Grandfather will march." Frerin leapt into Thrain's arms, crying quietly. Thorin and Dis soon joined the two, and they all huddled together until the bell rang for dinner.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaaannd shit went down! I felt it would be more realistic that the other royals had no idea that Thror was going to Moria, and after the words were spoken, their hands were basically tied. I also thought that Thrain would never allow Frerin to fight, that was all Thror. The next six or seven chapters will be basically the preparations and then Azanulbizar.


	6. Gearing Up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The dwarves of Middle-Earth prepare for battle and death

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay guys, this is basically going to start after the meeting and end at them showing up on the fields in front of Moria. I'm basically going to do one more chapter that is on the eve of Azanulbizar (there will be no war of the orcs, it will just be that one battle) and then I'll do five chapters that will basically be structured like what I did with the dragon attack. Therefore, no violence in this chapter or the next, but lots in the chapters to come. Also, I'm incredibly sorry for dropping off the face of the planet (I had to pack for college, which I now send my greetings from, yay!)

Thrain roused Thorin early that morning. "Come," he said quietly, "We go to the armory before breakfast, and I don't want to wake your brother and sister." They dressed quickly and went down two levels to the amory. It was strangley packed that morning, or not so strangely. Apprentices dashed about taking orders, and messangers were racing out to the smiths with commisions and orders. There was a general clamor as the soldiers came and got what they needed, though armor was already running short. The smiths would have to work day and night. It was agreed that all of the armies would meet here in three month's time and march, though the soldiers were getting outfitted now, as to begin training. Almost every lad of age had signed up for the army, and only a small garrison would remian in Ered Mithrin. All told, they would march with nearly thirty thousand dwarrows, not including the dwarrowdams, dwarflings, and medics who would travel with them. Each lord would send a representative, Dalin had sent Dain, and the heir to Ered Mithrin would be marching as well, the rest of the dwarf lords were well enough to lead their armies themselves, and Dalin only remained in the Iron Hills as the political situation was somewhat unstable there. Thorin walked to back where the master armorer was. Thrain was measured first, he was to receive red and gold armor, which was traditional for the High Prince. His red warhammer would also be remade. Thorin had plain chainmail of excellent quailty. Over the chainmail would be a tunic of midnight blue, the color of the House of Durin. The sigil of his house would be inbedded on the front in silver thread. "It's not a good idea, to have him so openly claimed on the field of battle," Thrain commented.

"I'm sorry my prince, but the king insisted," the armorer said meekly. Thrain ran his hands through his hair in frustration and nodded. Thorin's sword was repaired, and they were sent away with promises that the armor would be ready by the end of the week. Really, there was no rush, as it would take three months for the troops to arrive. Ravens were dispatched to each of the kingdoms with orders to gather and march as soon as possible. Their time was occupied with constant war meetings, studies, and meetings with the people. They seemed willing enough to go to Khazad-dum, despite the danger. Their opinion was summed up in the statement that Barlyn gave when asked.

"Can't be any worse than wanderin' in the wilderness for Mahal knows how many years," he sighed as he ran a hand through his hair, "Me, my brother, and me nephew will stand with ye, Prince Thorin." A ball of warmth settled in Thorin's stomach, and he clasped Barlyn's arms in respect and gratitude. Here was a man who knew almost nothing of himself or his family, and had experinced hurt due to their ignorance, yet still he and his were willing to fight. They would risk their kin, just for a jumble of words in front of Thorin's name. This was the loyalty that Grandfather and Father spoke of, and he catalogued this instance in his mind. This loyalty was not just given, it was earned, and it was to be treasured by all who were gifted with it. When he was king, he would give his people a reason to give him their loyalty. They wouldn't serve him just because he was King Thorin, but because he was someone they could look up to and follow. Maybe Khazad-dum would allow him to prove himself to his people. Preparations were on at full speed as the first of the armies came. Healers were preparing potions by the case, cooks made packs of food, and the armory was operating day and night to arm everyone. At the end of the three months, all of the armies were at Ered Mithrin. Thror declared that they would march in two days. Frerin was somewhat sulky that he would not fight, but Thrain told him to consider himself lucky, battle was a bloody and horror-filled affair, and he and Dis would be needed with the people.

"But why?" Frerin demanded. Thrain was at that moment reminded that Frerin was not quite of age, and very naive.

"If-if the battle should go ill, you will be my heir, and you will have need of your sister's guidance," Thrain said quietly. Tears filled with Frerin's eyes and he rushed into Thrain's arms.

"Promise me you'll come back to us, both you and Thorin, and Grandfather too," he whispered tearfully.

"Oh lad, it's just in case, really. You just watch and wait my golden prince, you'll see, you'll see our ugly mugs coming up over the hills near the gate before you've even realized we're gone, you and your sister both," Thrain soothed, "Now come, we must have our last audience." The royal family assembled in the Great Hall of Ered Mithrin to await the supplicants. There was only one, Holdir, for the day, as everyone was preparing to leave.

"What is it Holdir?" Thrain asked.

"My king, I would ask a favor of you. My wife, Lora, is now heavy with child, and you would have us march with your great army. She is now due in two months. This means that she would be giving birth on the fields before Khazad-dum. That my babe may be born during battle puts fear in my heart, and I would ask that Lora and Dori remain here until the battle is won. I would then come and fetch them to the halls of old," Holdir said respectfully. Thorin's heart went to Holdir and his family. He'd forgotten how near Lora's time was, and now she had to march off to battle! Surely, Grandfather would grant this simple request. Yet, Thror instead seemed angered.

"Your wife and child shall march with the rest of us. I would not have the first dwarfling of this new era of our people born outside the gates of Khazad-dum," Thror said sternly. Holdir bowed and quickly exited the room. Thrain banged his hand angrily on throne.

"And what is wrong with worrying over one's kin?" Thrain demanded.

"I would have had the same fears had it been mother," Dis added.

"And your mother would have done her duty," Thror said angrily. Thrain blanched and Frerin put a restraining hand on Dis's arm.

"She did her duty, and she died doing her duty in _your_  mountain," Frerin said quietly. He and Dis exited the room, followed by Thrain and Thorin. Thror sat on his throne and dreamed of gold and mithril beyond measure. On the second day, they marched. 30,000 dwarrows marched behind their king, and their spears gleamed red in the morning sun. The people of Ered Mithrin offered their quiet good-byes, led by their lord. Their were no cheers or songs, those would wait until news of the battle came. There were whispered blessings and farewells. They soon left Ered Mithrin behind. They marched in formation with the lucky ones on ponies leading, then soldiers with dwarrowdams and dwarflings in the middle, and then the wagons full of supplies, the sick, old, and those with child or with young children. Dori bounced in the wagon alongside his mother, whose tummy was getting very large indeed! Boffa was on Uncle Harlyn's back and Bofur was on Papa's. Bifur and Mama were behind them with their packs. It was fun, because Papa and uncle would race, and they had plenty of food. There were lots of people to talk to, and Papa said that they would have a new home soon, though Uncle looked sad whenever he mentioned it. It was a long journey, but after a month, Bofur and Boffa were greeted with a sight of the plains in front of Khazad-dum.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tensions rise! What did you think? Thank you so much for reading and for all the kudos and bookmarks! Expect updates to be a little sporadic with my 15 hours and part time job.


	7. Sneak Peek #2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dwalin and his little shits.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In lieu of my not writing anything in so long, I thought that you might want another sneak peek! Remember, this might not be worded exactly, or I might insert some things when I actually put this chronically, but this is the basic essence of it. Enjoy!

Dwalin's day _had_ been going well. "What do ye mean I have ta watch 'em?!" he _didn't_ whine. Balin crossed his arms and rolled his eyes, Thorin tried not to laugh, and Dis tried to patient.

"Thorin is required at a meeting two days away, so Balin goes to make sure he doesn't kill anyone. I have to go because the heirs of Thorin must have a voice, and Mahal knows what would happen if I brought a six and one year old to open court," Dis sighed.

"So leave 'em somewhere else!" Dwalin protested.

"With who?" Dis demanded.

"It's only for a week brother, ya'll handle it," Balin sighed. Dwalin sighed and nodded slowly.

"We'll bring them over tonight, thank you my friend," Thorin said gratefully. Dwalin showed them out. He envisioned a week with a dwarfling who could barely walk, and one who was prone to accidental mischief. That night, the blonde and brunette were brought to the home he shared with Balin. The hardest part was getting Kili to let go of Dis. She left him with very specific instructions, and got an oath from both the boys to behave. As it was late when they were dropped off, he put them to bed almost as soon as they got there with promises of fun in the morning. Dwalin was just about to go to bed himself when there was a pounding on the door. He rushed to the door and threw it open, believing it to be an emergency. There stood a disheveled Lora, a sleepy Nori, and a cranky Ori. The two year old looked like he wanted to cry, and Nori looked like he wished he was anywhere else.

"I'm sorry Dwalin, Dori and Holdir took sick, and I'm needed at home. Can you watch them?" Lora begged.

"Do I look like a babysitter to ya?" he demanded. Ori looked like he _really_ wanted to cry now.

"I'm sorry, I know you have Fili and Kili, but the sickness will last about a week, and its pretty nasty, though thankfully not contagious," Lora sighed.

"What they got?" Dwalin asked sympathetically.

"Well, apparently they both came into contact with a virus while cleaning things in Holdir's shop," Lora explained.

"I can watch 'em, my apologies for bein' gruff earlier," Dwalin sighed. Lora smiled and Nori looked afraid.

"Now you two be good, and Mum will be back in a week," she said as she kissed each of them. Ori keened and tried to hold onto her cloak, but she had him in Dwalin's arms before he could get a grip. Nori flicked his braid over his shoulder as the sixteen year old flounced in. Lora walked away hurriedly before Ori could remember she'd left him with Dwalin.

"He's not gonna go back down easy," Nori warned. Dwalin sighed and wondered what he'd done wrong.

"There's room on the bed with Fili, and Ori'll just have to share with Kili," Dwalin sighed. Nori was soon asleep and snoring next to Fili, who'd immediately cuddled with dwarfling once he'd gotten into the bed. He took Ori out to the kitchen and got the baby bottles from the pack that Lora had hurriedly deposited by his door. He knew that a bedtime snack always helped him go to sleep. He fed Ori, who immediately started crying once he tried putting him into the crib. Dwalin sighed and bounced him on his hip. Two hours later, he deposited a calm Ori into the cradle next to Kili. Fili and Nori were in Balin's room while the cradle was at the foot of his bed, where he could keep an eye on the little ones. He finally dropped off to sleep after what seemed like a day of work. He woke up that morning to a crash. He sat up with fear and looked to the babes. Kili didn't even move, while Ori just snuffled, rolled over, and continued to suck his thumb. Dwalin sent up a silent blessing to Mahal and got up to to see who the hell was stupid enough to break into his house. He ran into the kitchen to see that Fili and Nori were up. Nori was covered in eggs while Fili was coated with flour. They hadn't noticed him yet. The floor was coated with eggs, flour, sugar, and an unknown substance.

"We'll have to mix another batch for pancakes," Fili sighed.

"You sure that Mister Dwalin is okay with this, I promised Mum we'd be good," Nori said cautiously.

"Of course, he'll love that we made him breakfast!" Fili pronounced. Nori just shrugged and sauntered sleepily over to the counter. Dwalin was shocked. All of his carefully bought supplies, on his floor, on the kids. He seriously hated going to the market.

"And how am I supposed ta eat it off the floor?" he asked as calmly as he could. Nori dropped the bowl. Wails echoed down the hall. Both he and the dwarflings raced down the hall. Kili was screaming, and Ori was taking his thumb out of his mouth so that screaming his head off could be made easier.

"Aw fuck!" Dwalin groaned. Fili and Nori both gasped. Ori looked at him contemplatively.

"Fuck!" he chirped. Dwalin sucked in a horrified breath.

"Its his first word!" Nori said gleefully.

"Ori said his first word!" Fili said with joy.

"Fuck! Fuck!" the babe chirped. Dwalin hated his life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What do you think, is it a keeper? I really wanted to stick Dwalin with a large group of kids, just to see what he'd do:) There will more thank likely be more than one chapter of this.


	8. Death on the Horizon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everyone gears up for battle

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys! Thanks for sticking with me through my sporadic updates! I was going through my fics and this was first on my list to get a new chapter! No warnings for this one *gasp*.

When they finally arrived at the plains before Khazad-dum, the leaders of the army made absolutely sure that the camps were placed at a safe distance. The camps were made about three hours away from the plains, in a place called Hollin. When Bofur, Boffa, and Dori went to play, they were astounded at the amount of trees in the area. “Dwarves lived here?” Boffa asked.

“I don’t think so,” Dori mused.

“I don’t think so either. Your Mam knows lots of things about forging and building, and she said it wasn’t dwarvish,” Bofur said.

“Yes. While I was going to school in the mountain, they’d just started on the different places, I think the master said that elves used to live here,” Dori said quietly.

“But elves can’t make anything pretty, and why aren’t they here then?” Boffa demanded.

“Not all elves are bad, and I asked Mam once. She said that these were some of the ones who were tricked by the Dark One. After the big battle, they left, because they were so sad,” Dori explained.

“But if they helped him, then they were bad!” Boffa countered.

“Mam said that they were tricked, and they didn’t know any better, and that they tried to help after they found out who he was,” Dori said.

“Aye, I can’t seem to blame anyone for ownin’ up to their mistakes,” Bofur mused.

“Do you think- do you think that we made a mistake in comin’ here?” Boffa asked quietly.

“What do you mean, don’t you want a home?” Dori asked quietly.

“Yes, but Ma is sad. She and Da yelled a lot last night. She said that lots of people die in battle, and that she couldn’t lose ‘im. I can’t lose ‘im either,” Boffa whispered.

“Or Uncle Harlyn, or Bifur,” Bofur whispered. Tears filled the eyes of the twins, and the young dwarfling who had grown up much too fast hugged them both.

“I’m sure they’ll be alright. Prince Thrain and Prince Thorin are in the army, and they’re big and strong!” Dori chirped.

“I’m sure you’re right,” Bofur said quietly.

“Aye, Bifur’ll skew ‘em with ‘is spear!” Boffa cheered.

“And Uncle Harlyn is great with weapons! You’re lucky Dori, your Da has to stay with the healers, and your Mam can’t fight,” Bofur sighed.

“You’re right, Da said so too,” Dori sighed, “But Mam said that Da will be busy for a while after the battle.”

“Oh yeah, takin’ care of the wounded,” Bofur said. The three dwarflings would have continued their conversation if they had not been interrupted by the calling of mothers. Meanwhile, Thrain had gathered his children into his tent to spend some time with them.

“I wish I could go with you,” Dis muttered.

“The people need you here Dis, and Frerin needs you here as well,” Thrain sighed, they’d had this discussion numerous times.

“Just because it needs to be done doesn’t mean I have to like it,” Dis muttered.

“Truly I don’t want to stay here either, but I know that I must,” Frerin sighed.

“You both are too young for battle,” Thrain scolded, “I have enough anger at Thror’s allowing of Thorin to enter it.”

“Oin, Balin, and Dwalin will fight!” Frerin cried.

“Balin has passed his weapons classes, and both Oin and Dwalin have been trained as warriors. I’ll tell you now that Fundin is not happy that Dwalin will be in the battle,” Thrain sighed.

“You will stay here brother,” Thorin commanded quietly, “Please, for me.” Both Dis and Frerin bowed their heads in acquiesce. Just then, Thror came bustling into the tent.

“The people tell me that Frerin will not fight,” he growled.

“They tell you rightly, Father. Frerin is a good archer, but he is not nearly as strong in the sword or axe as he needs to be. He is forty-eight, Father! He is not of age, and I will not have him in the battle!” Thrain cried.

“You disobey me?” Thror hissed.

“I will not sacrifice my sons to your madness!! My wife lies dead, unburied, because of your greed! My children must now live without their mother for your fierce love of gold! Are you now happy, are you now rich enough?! What of Lord Gornir’s son, Father, who you promised to return?! Our people will die tomorrow Father, in the name of greed! When their wives mourn and their children wail, I hope that you find happiness in your gold!” Thrain spat. The children barely saw the punch coming. One moment Thrain was standing, and the next he was on the floor.

“Frerin will be outfitted and ready for battle tomorrow, or I will have the guards drag him there myself,” Thror said quietly. He turned his cloak and went out of the room. Dis and Thorin were helping Thrain to stand as Frerin stood in the tent trembling.

“You do not have to fight Frerin, you are not yet of age!” Thrain soothed, “I’ll fight him!”

“No Father, I must fight. I will go to the armorer tonight.” With that, Frerin quickly and quietly left the tent.

“Father, you cannot allow him to…” Dis protested.

“Of course not!” Thrain returned, “But we might not have a choice.”

“Then what will you do?” Thorin asked quietly.

“Your brother will remain in sight of both you and myself at all times,” Thrain sighed.

“And if he doesn’t?” Dis asked.

“He will,” Thrain responded. That night, Lora and Holdir lay still in their tent. Lora listened as Holdir ran through his list for the thousandth time.

“Dear, you need rest,” she sighed.

“But I need to make sure that I have enough supplies!” he protested.

“You have as much as you’re going to get,” Lora sighed.

“I know. I just seem so useless!” Holdir spat.

“You will not be useless as you save the lives of the wounded,” Lora soothed.

“So many dead, just for gold,” he sighed.

“I don’t think of it as gold, Holdir. I think of it as a roof and food for Dori, and a wooden cradle for Nori,” she sighed.

“Nori?” he asked with a raised eyebrow. “A good name for a boy, don’t you think?” she asked.

“A fine name, a strong name,” he whispered. Yes, his children deserved a roof over their heads, Lora deserved pretty dresses and a job where she could make fair pay. The only thing that Holdir didn’t know, is what price would that come by? Would the price be so high that all he would be able to see as he walked through the halls of his home was death? When he finally set foot in the halls of old, would he only be able to see the ghosts that might have dwelled there? He prayed to Mahal he did not.

“Oh, you look amazing!” Gloin cheered. They had just finished supper and Oin was now trying on his brand-new armor. “What do you think Mam?” Gloin asked. When the boy looked over, Mam was silent. “Oin, what’s wrong with Mam?” Gloin asked quietly. His brother sighed and knelt down in front of their trembling mother.

“I’ll come back, I promise,” Oin whispered.

“And if you don’t?” Orla whimpered.

“Gloin is a big boy now, he’ll take care of you,” Oin observed in a whisper. At that moment, he met his brother’s eyes, and Gloin nodded silently. Gloin knew that if his strong brother didn’t come back, he had to take care of Mam. He had to wipe her tears and hold her, and he had to make sure he ate, and he had to make absolutely certain that he didn’t cry in front of her anymore, it would make her sad. Gloin knew then that his little plan failed, no matter how excited he got about the armor or about dinner, neither Mam nor Oin took theirs minds off the death that was coming.

Barlyn and Renna put the twins down as the sky grew dark. When they had settled in their cot, Renna finally broke the silence.

“Please, try your best to come back,” she whispered.

“Oh Renna,” he sighed.

“I’m worried for Harlyn and Bifur, Mahal knows that the boy might as well be mine, but you have so much to live for!” she cried.

“Yes, I do. But, what am I to do, Renna? Am I to stand by and watch Bofur and Boffa grow thin and hungry? Am to take the risk of them getting whipped again so that we can make coin?!” Barlyn demanded.

“No! You do right...but I am afraid, Barlyn. Please, come back to us, your wife and three little ones,” she whispered.

“Three?” Barlyn croaked.

“Aye, we’ll be one stronger come fall. Please, just come back. I need, you, you and your brother and my nephew,” she whispered.

“I can’t promise you, but I’ll do whatever I can to make sure that you’ll have a watcher for the twins when you’re too slow for ‘em,” he chuckled. That night, the young couple looked at the stars, and they chose two names for their child. Though, it was just to prepare early of course.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hooray for angst! Next chapter will be the Durins at Azanulbizar, with one chapter for each clan! Thank you so much for all the reads, subscriptions, and kudos, you guys are amazing!


	9. Blood

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The battle of Azanulbizar

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay you guys, instead of doing the five chapter Azanulbizar like I thought I was going to do, I decided to just do one really big chapter. The reason being that some houses (Such as House Ri and House Groin) only got a paragraph or so, and I didn't do any POV for Balin and Dwalin. Warnings for allot of death (I counted the major characters I killed, and I got seven) and a great deal of gore! Everyone experiences loss here, though the greatest comes to the line of Durin. Thank you so much for reading and I hope you enjoy.

That morning, the horns sounded early and loud. Thorin was putting on his armor when the blasts split the silence in half. A harried Dwalin burst into his tent. “The orcs,” he panted, “They moved out of the mines during the night. They’re two hours away! Thrain’s mobilizing, we’re moving out!” Thorin’s mind was at a blank, and then it seemed as if time was flowing past. He found himself fastening his sword around his waist as he ran with Dwalin. “You’ve just got the chainmail? Where’s your heavy plate?” he asked. The blue armor had been left in his tent.

“Forget the plate, it’s probably better if I don’t wear it, don’t want to be targeted. Where’s Frerin?” he demanded.

“With Thrain at the front, you were the last I was sent to get,” he explained. They finally arrive at the front. Thrain, Thror, and Frerin were already set. Balin and Fundin were checking one another’s armor while Orla and Gloin were saying good-bye to one another. Barlyn, Harlyn, and Bifur jogged past him and quickly formed up. The healing tents were at the front of the camp. Thorin could see healers scurrying about in the tent, and all dwarrows who were not fighting were helping with with the preparations and running messages. Dis would be inside the healing tent. All dwarflings were instructed to stay near the tent or with a parent. Though the battlefield was now two hours away, one couldn’t take too many chances. He looked to his father and his brother. Frerin was decked out in full armor. He did not have good plate armor, as was befitting his station, but instead had to settle for patched-together armor made at the last minute. All were gathered. His grandfather turned, his voice carrying well over the tense silence.

“Today, we reclaim our homeland! Today, the blood of the orcs will run free in the halls, and our people shall once again walk the places of old! Today, we shall be victorious! Do not be afraid, for we shall cut through their ranks like a knife cuts butter! We are the children of Mahal, strong and fierce, unyielding! On this morning, the sun shall shine on a ground littered with the corpses of our enemies! Be brave, and know that we fight today for our home!” Thror thundered. Battle-cries echoed through the ranks, sword crashed onto shield and yells split the air. Thror hefted his sword in the air. “Charge!!” he thundered. While Thorin had remained silent through the cries and speech, he now surged forward with a roar. Frerin was on his right, his father on his left, Grandfather beside Father. Maybe today, they would be victorious. That was before he saw the enemy. Rank upon rank of orcs, at least ten times their number. He heard Father give a strangled gasp beside him. He heard Frerin nock an arrow and shoot.  He saw one orc fall in the front. An elvish weapon indeed. His brother, still considered a child, had taken the honor of first blood for himself. There was no more time to think about whether or not he was going to die. The horns of the orc host rent the air with a snarling wail and the lines met. Thorin cut through orc after orc, maybe Grandfather was right. They were winning! He saw that Fundin had already created a ring of corpses around him, Dwalin behind him and Balin on his left. That was the last coherent thought that Thorin had a for a very long while. His entire mind was consumed with the fight. There was only the orcs in front of him and the dwarves beside him. He eventually stopped seeing his father and brother. His Grandfather was in front of him. He felt a glancing blow at his back and turned round to deal with the threat. He skewered the orc on his sword. He turned back around to look for his grandfather. There were at least twenty orcs separating them. Since when had he been stranded in a pool of enemies?! He looked around and saw neither his father, nor his brother, nor his friends. All those around him were either corpses or soon to be corpses. Oh Mahal, they’d fallen for the oldest trick in the book! They had engaged the enemy, while two groups flanked them and got them right in the ass! He was a fool! They were all fools! He heard a roar and looked up. His grandfather was facing down with a giant beast of an orc. His heart stopped as he remembered the reports. Reports with rumors of a pale orc leading the host, a pale orc straight from the pits of Gundabad. Azog the Defiler they called him. His grandfather was facing off with the most dangerous orc in Middle-Earth! The Defiler seized his grandfather by the throat and brandished a knife. All Thorin could hear was his grandfather’s anguished screams. His world turned red and an unearthly howl was torn from his body. He fought like a madman just to get to Grandfather. His cries silenced when Thorin was about five orcs away. Thror’s head rolled towards him, hideous runes carved across his face. Thorin screamed as blue eyes looked into his and an evil smile spread across the orc’s face. Arms seized him as a group of dwarves, led by Fundin, crashed into the orc. Thorin was turned towards his father’s horrified face. Frerin, bloody and panting, was doubled over beside him.

“None of it’s mine,” he breathed, reading Thorin’s mind.

“Father, what of the Defiler, Uncle can’t hold him off forever!” Thorin cried.

“Take your brother back, I’ll handle the Defiler!” Thrain cried.

“Father, we can take him together!” Thorin protested.

“Boy, you get back there and pull our troops back! This was madness, just as we feared! Somebody must cut the head off the snake while you and your brother and cousins sound the retreat! Dain, Balin, and Dwalin are back farther, take them and pull back!” Thrain roared. Father was right, they must pull back and live to fight another day. He seized Frerin’s shoulder and pulled his protesting brother back. He soon saw his three cousins.

“Father?” Dwalin asked with a shake in his voice. Thorin didn’t blame him, one-tenth of their forces remained, there would be many widows and orphans this day.

“Uncle and Father are with the leader, we’re to sound the retreat,” Thorin panted.

“What of Thror?” Dain demanded.

“Dead,” Thorin stated firmly.

“Then Thrain is king,” Balin breathed.

“He can’t face the orc, we must get him back to the army! He’ll need to command us,” Dwalin stated.

“Dain, gather whatever troops back, prepare for either a charge or a retreat, but hold them here. Frerin, Balin, Dwalin with me!” Thorin commanded. The four young dwarves raced forward, they heard Dain booming orders behind them, the captains relaying them. They finally reached the spot where’d they left their comrades. They were greeted with a horrific sight. Thrain was nowhere to be seen, but the rest of the company was. The dwarves in the guard were dead around the unharmed Gundabad orc. A struggling Fundin was lifted into the air, impaled on Azog’s mace. The orc gave them what could be considered a smile and tossed the body to them. Thorin heard Balin’s screaming and Dwalin’s wails as they tried to get some response from their father, but his eyes were only for the orc. His father was most likely dead, his grandfather was dead, his uncle was dead, his cousins and brother could wind up dead very shortly if he didn’t do something. And so, Thorin son of Thrain, now King Under the Mountain (though it was horrendously obvious that there _was_ no mountain), charged the slayer of his kin. He ducked under Azog’s mace, and he was able to deflect a blow from it. However, the orc was too strong for the exhausted dwarf. He could see Balin and Dwalin fighting off the orcs that were trying to get to them, and Frerin was fighting off to the side. Thorin ducked under a blow, but he was too slow. With one sweep, Azog had his legs out from under him. His sword was kicked away and his foe seized up a scimitar from a fallen orc. He skittered back, but could find no weapon. Azog followed him and gripped the scimitar, as if to stab him. Thorin knew then that he would die. He prayed that Frerin would be a good king, that his sister would be happy, and that his cousins help Frerin in every way they could. The blow never came. He opened his eyes and saw something that would forever be burned into his memory. Long legs were planted on either side of his chest. He looked up and saw the point of a scimitar poking out of a dwarf’s side. He looked up to see blonde hair, golden like the sun.

“No,” he choked out, “ _NO_!” Azog wrenched the blade from Frerin’s body, and his brother crumpled onto his chest. Frerin’s breaths came in wheezes. Finally, four words were choked out.

“Long live the king,” Frerin wheezed. Thorin let out a strangled sob. Oh Mahal, his baby brother. His beautiful baby brother, the light in his darkness, one of the few who could make him laugh. The body was kicked away from him, and Thorin saw that his brother was not moving. He threw himself back with a howl, and his hand closed upon wood. He eventually found Deathless, and he hacked off the orc’s arm and saw that the orcs were starting to retreat. He had to charge now, and they would win! He thrust his sword into the air and turned for one last look at his baby brother. He took in the golden hair tossing about in the wind, and then he saw the group. A small group of orcs, twenty or so, running south towards the camp. He saw Harlyn, Barlyn, and Bifur by him.

“You three, get back to the camp and stay there, I saw some orcs running towards it!” he thundered. The three were off like shots, and Thorin knew that the camp was in good hands. He looked to Balin and Dwalin, who were standing on either side of him. “Du bekar!” he howled as he led the charge. It was time to end this madness.

\---

Bofur and Boffa were standing on the ridge away from the camp. They both knew that it was dangerous, but Princess Dis had said that she needed two volunteers to watch for messengers or the return of the army, and the two dwarflings had agreed.

“Look brother, there’s someone comin’!” Boffa cried.

“Aye, don’t look like any of ours though,” he replied. They both looked at one another curiously. They would have to wait and see, shapes could be hard to tell at this distance. By the time the dwarflings realized that the shapes were too tall and lanky to be their soldiers, it was too late. Boffa let out a scream as the orcs appeared out of the trees at the bottom of the ridge. “Run!!” Bofur commanded. Boffa turned tail to run, but the orcs were near the top of the ridge. Bofur started running, Boffa behind him. He didn’t dare look behind him. He was running when he found himself being shoved forward. He landed on the ground with a thud, and turned around. He saw one of the orcs slash Boffa across the chest with a scimitar. She fell down in a heap, and Bofur screamed. “Mam!!” he wailed. He tried to crawl backwards, but was frozen in fear. An orc leered at him. He raised his blade to strike the dwarfling when he was abruptly stopped. A knife imbedded itself in the orc’s neck. Bifur came howling up the ridge, Da and Uncle behind him! Uncle heaved his axe into the air and knocked the head off of one orc. Bifur planted himself in front of his small cousin, and Da got in front of Boffa. Uncle held the orcs off as long as he could, but he couldn’t do it forever, and they just kept coming! Finally, five orcs ganged up on the swarthy miner, and the dwarf went to be with his lady of starlight. Bofur could swear that he saw a smile on his face as he died. The orcs advanced towards Bifur and his father. His father was eventually overwhelmed, taking a spear through the stomach, and he lay across his daughter, protecting her even in death. Bifur was left to deal with six orcs. His cousin killed four, but the fifth had an axe. The orc hefted it and buried it in his skull. As his cousin crashed to the ground and whispered one word.

“Run,” Bifur breathed. And run Bofur did.

\---

Blood, there was blood on his hands. It was all over him, his hands, his armor, his face. His boots were covered up to the ankle in chunks of flesh and blood. He couldn’t get his hands to stop shaking. So much death, so much death. He knew without a doubt that he would never pick up a blade as a soldier again. He would be trained in something else, and he’d defend his own, but a soldier he would never be.

“Oin c-can you hear me?” a voice whimpered. Oin looked up from the dirt and saw his trembling brother, his mother thundering towards them from one of the tents. She crashed down in front of him and took his head in her hands.

“Gloin, you are needed with the healers,” she commanded firmly. His brother nodded and left them. His mother, his wise and beautiful mother, threw her arms around her eldest.

“It’ll never be the same, but we’ll be alright,” she whispered.

“Oh Mam,” he whimpered.

“Shhh,” she hushed, “I’m here, let go my son, you’ve been brave for long enough today.” And Oin let go, tears spilled down his face and onto his mother’s tunic. After his sobs had turned to sniffles, she lifted his chin. “Come my brave boy, we are needed in the healing tent, the wounded need treatment and busy hands don’t allow for gruesome thoughts,” she said. Oin nodded and got up.

\---

When a screaming Bofur came howling to her, Renna knew that something was deadly wrong. The two had been sent to look for the army, but the army had come from a different direction. The boy, one who was never prone to tears, crashed into her leg and latched onto her clothing.

“Bofur, darling, talk to Mam, where is your sister?” she demanded.

“Ma!” he howled. She tried to kneel and disentangle the hysterical lad, but it was no use.

“Mam cannot help is she don’t know what the matter is!” she tried to reason.

“No help, no help!” he screamed.

“Where is Boffa, tell Mam!” she demanded firmly. She knew that she was being harsh, but she needed to find her daughter.

“With the orcs,” he sobbed. Her heart stopped then.

“Where are the orcs Bofur, where is Boffa?” she cried, on the verge of panic now.

“We thought it was the soldiers, and then they came. She pushed me down and they got her instead. Uncle and Da and Bifur came and tried to help, but Uncle and Da got killed, and Bifur’s hurt, he might be dead,” he whispered. Oh Mahal, oh Mahal. She had to be calm, for her son she had to be calm. He’d promised, that lying husband of hers had _promised_! No, he’d tried his best, and she still had her son, and possibly her nephew. And the babe, she had the babe. She saw the soldiers starting to walk around the camp. There were the young lads Dwalin and Balin! They would be able to help. She called Dwalin over as calmly as she could and he trotted over.

“Bofur,” she instructed, “Tell Mr. Dwalin what you told me.” Within five minutes, a solemn Balin, Dwalin, and Dain thundered off to bring back her family. When they came back to camp, they brought a breathing Bifur. “Oh thank Mahal,” she sighed.

“You’ll need to get these two over to the healers,” Dwalin told her.

“And my husband and brother?” she asked quietly.

“We didn’t see any of the other three. Orcs must have made off with ‘em, they were about to do the same to Bifur, but we put an end to it,” Dain sighed. Bofur whimpered and clung tighter to her leg.

“Come lad, we best be gettin’ to the tent,” she sighed. She had to be strong, tonight, she would mourn, oh how she would mourn.

\---

It was chaos. Lora was helping in whatever way she could, and Dori was helping Holdir (though she was of the mind that this was no place for such a young lad), but the healing tent was full to the brim, and more wounded were coming. The healers were running around, shouting orders and requests, and it was pandemonium. She had to get some air. That was when she heard the yelling. She waddled out as best she could and found some soldiers, she thought they were from the Iron Hills, gathered round a shaking and hunched-over figure.

“Shame on you!” she thundered, “Yelling at a soldier just returned from battle! If you aren’t wounded, then go to and get some food or rest!” The murmuring dwarves dispersed and she sat down in front of the figure. The sobbing dwarf had a sword clutched in one hand and a branch in the other. Red and puffy eyes looked up to greet hers.

“Prince Thorin?” she gasped, “What is the matter?”

“They’re all gone,” he whimpered. Oh Mahal, the royal line. She’d heard the whispers among the soldiers who came in to help, but she’d been too busy to pay any attention. The poor boy, those soldiers were probably looking for someone with whom to place their anger and confusion. “Princess Dis is alright lad, now I’ll just send for her, you wait right here,” she soothed as well as she could. His sobs started again as she slowly got up from her position on the ground.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please don't kill me! Thank you again for reading and please feel free to comment below!


	10. Aftermath

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thorin and his followers must face the aftermath of the bloodshed at Azanulbizar.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! Thanks so much for sticking with this and reading! We deal a pretty good amount of the effects of what happened in the last chapter, so warnings for medical gore!

Thorin sat with his head in his hands. Oh Dis, dear, sweet Dis. He would have to tell her, tell her that he’d stood and watched as his grandfather died, that he’d abandoned Thrain, and that Frerin had given up his life for his older brother’s. Oh his poor sister, she and he were the only ones left. The last of the line of Durin. Perhaps that was a good thing, their line was tainted, tainted by madness and by greed. Now, there was no such temptation. If they were to live, it would be in poverty. It would be no life for a princess, but it would be a life. Oh his poor sister. He heard heavy steps slowly approach and stop. He heard some shuffling, whoever it was had kneeled down in front of him. “Leave me be,” he whispered.

“No,” the intruder responded. A hand brought his chin up, and he looked into the eyes of Dis. Tears filled his eyes. He wasn’t ready, not yet, not for this.

“Oh sister, I am so sorry,” he whimpered. She threw her arms around him.

“Oh Thorin, it wasn’t your fault. None of it was!” she soothed.

“But I-” he protested. She cut him off however.

“Thror died because of his own stupidity, he should never have taken on that orc! You followed our father’s orders, he knew what he was getting himself into. And Frerin, what he did was his choice. If he hadn’t died, then you would have. Do not take his sacrifice lightly,” Dis interrupted.

“I never shall sister. But who shall lead us?” he asked.

“You shall, and you shall do so as well as any have done before. Dwalin, Balin, me, we’ll all be there to help you and guide you along,” Dis stated. He gave Dis’ arm a squeeze.

“Where would I ever be without you?” he whispered.

“Probably be lost somewhere,” she sniffed, “You have to admit,your sense of direction is horrendous.”

“I never said I was perfect,” he responded.

“And I never said you had to be. Now come, every able hand is needed in the tents,” Dis replied. She took him by the hand and led him onwards. His heart was still shattered, and Thorin knew that it might never be whole again, but Dis had at least given him a reason to piece it together. His people needed him. Now to see what his grandfather’s madness had done to their fellow dwarrow. He could hear the screaming from five tents down. He and Dis began to run, and they burst into the tent. The first thing that Thorin did when he took in the sights that were in front of him was retch. Dis grasped his arm to steady him, and he swayed on his feet. Holdir was running around, screaming orders. Never had Thorin heard the healer raise his voice, but he did so freely now. Lora was running about, helping where she could. Renna was kneeling in a corner. Bifur lay on a cot, and Bofur sat at his cousin’s feet, staring into the distance. A healer approached the trio. He examined Bifur, and Thorin saw him shake his head. Renna tried to talk to the healer, and she was obviously hysterical, but it was no use. When the healer tried to walk past him, Thorin grabbed his arm. He led the healer back to the trio. Bofur appeared unhurt, though the lad was obviously traumatized.

“Bofur my lad, Dori seems to be needing some help with rolling the bandages, could you be a good helper and lend him a hand?” Thorin asked as nicely as he could over the screaming. Bofur finally made eye contact with him and nodded slowly.

“Aye m’lord,” he whispered. He staggered over to Dori, though he stole a few glances at his mother and cousin. Thorin looked at the healer.

“Now what seems to be the problem?” he asked.

“This dwarrow has an axe in his head, and this ‘dam expects me to spend time I don’t have on him!” the healer sighed.

“I know that there are many wounded, but isn’t there any chance that he might live?” Thorin almost pleaded.

“That’s all I ask sir, a chance,” Renna pleaded, “A chance for my nephew.”

“The chances of him surviving the night are very little,” the healer sighed, “I am sorry lass, but there isn’t much that I can do.”

“But you say that there _is_ a chance?” Thorin responded.

“Yes my prince, but there are many other patients here, patients that have a better chance of survival!” the healer protested.

“I never thought that Holdir, who is in charge here, put priority on those who might live,” Dis stated.

“Holdir has many other things to consider…” the healer spluttered.

“I am your prince, and I am saying that this dwarrow deserves the chance to live! Who are you to say that he may not take that chance? I am in need of every strong dwarrow that I can get, and Bifur is one of my best warriors. You will heal him, and if you do not or if your care for him is in any way unsatisfactory, I will inform Holdir that you withheld healing from a wounded soldier,” Thorin hissed. The healer gulped, nodded shakily, and set about his work. Renna clasped him on the arm.

“Thank you for giving Bifur a chance, my Bofur has lost so much already, if he lost his cousin…” Renna whimpered.

“Where are Harlyn and Barlyn?” Thorin asked.

“The orc attack, they came up on Bofur and Boffa. Harlyn, Barlyn, and Bifur got there, but Barlyn, Harlyn, and Boffa were killed,” Renna sighed. Her eyes filled with tears.

“You have my utmost condolences. May Mahal be with you and yours,” Dis whispered with a bowed head.

“They are with Mahal now, though I wish Barlyn would have met his third child,” Renna sighed.

“They shall watch over us from Mahal’s Halls,” Thorin whispered hoarsely. He’d done this, he and  his family. His wretched family, all they’d brought was death and hurt. This family, who’d been so loyal and so full of promise and happiness, went from seven to four in one hour’s time.

“Our clan shall forever be in your debt Thorin Oakenshield, son of Thrain, son of Thror, King Under the Mountain,” Renna said solemnly.

“You owe me nothing,” Thorin whispered, “It is I who have caused you to lose so much.”

“Barlyn and Harlyn knew that this war might end badly, but they went nonetheless. You have given our Bifur a chance to live, and that this is more than we can ever ask for. Call for our aid, and we shall answer. This I swear,” Renna replied.

“You have my thanks, and I swear that I shall never call for you  unless the need is dire,” Thorin answered. Renna bowed her head and returned to her cousin, whispering soothing nothings in his ear. Dis went to Lora, grabbing what the dwarrowdam needed and running where she was needed. Thorin came up to Holdir.

“What do you need?” Thorin asked.

“Hold him down,” Holdir commanded. He brandished a knife. The soldier, who was thrashing and holding his arm, whimpered. “I’m sorry, it’ll have to come off,” Holdir sighed.

“No, please, it’s alright, I’ll be fine!” the soldier screamed.

“Hold him down my prince,” Holdir commanded. Thorin put one hand on his chest and one hand on his upper arm. He pushed down as hard as he could, but the soldier still struggled. Holdir drew the knife up and brought it down. Thorin closed his eyes. The soldier howled. There was a thud, probably the arm hitting the ground. Thorin winced and opened his eyes. Holdir seized the arm and chucked into a corner. Thorin was mortified to see that there were some limbs in that corner, a pile.   
“Gruesome, I know, but we don’t have the time to transport them away,” Holdir sighed. Thorin swallowed his bile and continued on with the work. The time passed in a blur for the prince. He would do whatever Holdir told him to do, whether that was cauterization or amputation. When he finally shambled back to his tent, he collapsed into a deep and healing sleep immediately. Then, the nightmares came. His father, drenched in blood, Grandfather’s head, and Frerin in a pile of amputated limbs. They all asked the same question, “Why couldn’t you save me?” He woke up screaming. Dis jumped up from the cot next to him and instantly was at his side.

“Hush now brother, you’re safe,” she soothed. She ran her fingers through his hair, an old calming gesture.

“Why couldn’t I save them?” he sobbed.

“That is not for us to decide, what is for us to decide is what we shall do for the living,” Dis stated, “We must bury our dead and care for our living, those like Bifur and his family.” Thorin nodded. He fell asleep as Dis ran her fingers soothingly through his hair. When he woke in the morning, he knew that he would have to meet with his advisors. Balin, Dwalin, and Dis were all present.

“We must decide how we are to move on, once the wounded can be transported,” Thorin sighed.

“I spoke to the four lords last night. They decreed that they shall only follow he who bears the Arkenstone. Each lord gave us some gold and said that they would be on their way within the week,” Balin sighed.

“Traitors!” Dis hissed.

“No! Half their men, or more, are dead because of this family and our folly. I shall not be angry at them for protecting their own,” Thorin sighed, “They’ve given us enough gold for some wagons and some food, and that shall be enough.”

“You are right brother, but where shall we go?” Dis asked, “With the exception of Ered Mithrin, none of the kingdoms could house us.”

“Before we left Ered Mithrin, Father talked of the Blue Mountains. It’s close to the Shire and some human colonies, and we could build our halls in the mountain,” Thorin said.

“A good suggestion Thorin, but we’ll need coin for it,” Dwalin sighed, “And we’ll need dwarrow to guard us against orc attacks.”

“We’ll go from settlement to settlement, saving coin and earning our way. We’ll keep on towards the mountains, stopping at every village until we have enough coin saved to buy a house for each family. We’ll make it,” Thorin said dreamily.

“A good plan brother. It’ll take time,” Dis sighed.

“Aye, but it’ll be worth the time,” Dwalin stated, “A home to call our own and mountains to build it in.”

“Balin, I want a tally of every dwarrow, dwarrowdam, and dwarfling who will be traveling with us at the end of the day,” Thorin stated.

“I’ll have it done,” Balin said.

“Very good, I will speak to Holdir, and if all goes well, we shall leave in a fortnight,” Thorin stated.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What did you think? I wanted each clan to have their own special reason for coming on the quest, and I thought that this would be a pretty good background for Clan Ur's involvement. Next time, we'll be leaving the camp and FINALLY be hitting the road! YAY!! Thanks again for reading, I can't believe the level of response I've gotten!


	11. Into Exile

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thorin and his people leave the battlefield and journey into the wild.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay guys, this is where exile officially begins. My definition of that is the years that they spent wandering around in the wilderness. My Thorin is going to be very different from movie Thorin for a few reasons at first.  
> 1\. The Hobbit is told from Bilbo's viewpoint, Thorin is going to act a little differently amongst his own people and friends.  
> 2\. Thorin is still a little innocent to the world. While the village scene woke him up a little and the dragon and battle REALLY did, he still isn't sure about how men and other creatures will treat his people. Once he gets a reality check, he'll get a little more like movie Thorin.  
> 3\. Thorin isn't sure of his place in the world. While he's a king by right, he has no mountain and is basically penniless. He might still act like a prince, but people certainly aren't going to treat him like one.  
> I've got the exile at 15-16 years, 10 years for Vili and Dis (she will meet her future husband in a few chapters) and five years for Fili. While I'm on the subject of Fili, I would like your guys' opinion, should I do fem!Fili? I've already got fem!Bilbo and a bunch of stuff to go with her, but I was also wondering if you wanted fem!Fili. AryaWitchbane16 had a very good point with females coming first in the line of succession (thank you for the idea!!) and I was wondering if this was something you guys were on board for.

Thorin was in the midst of another nightmare when he was shaken awake. He opened his eyes to see Dis looming over him. “It’s time,” she whispered, “We meet in one hour.” Thorin grunted and rolled over, he could afford to spend an extra five minutes in bed. Beside him, he could hear Dis packing.

“Only the necessaries,” he murmured, “You’ll have to carry everything for yourself. The wagons will be full of wounded for at least a month.”

“I know, we don’t have room for memories, unfortunately,” she sighed.

“Where we’re going, we’ll have plenty of memories to build ourselves. Hell, you might even get married, raise of couple of dwarflings…” he teased. She flew over and tickled the bottoms of his feet, his only weak spot! When they were both breathless from laughter, she finally ceased her barrage. She planted a kiss on his forehead and continued packing.

“You’re the only family I’ll ever have need of, you idiot,” she laughed.

“As are you, dear sister,” he sighed. She hummed a jaunty tune (where she’d heard it, at her age, he didn’t like to think) and finished her packing. When Thorin was finally up and dressed, he knew he wouldn’t be getting any breakfast. The only lord (well not really) left at the camp was Dain, and he would be departing on the morrow. Dwalin came trotting him and tossed him a meat pasty. Thorin bit into it with a groan.

“Enjoy it while ye can. The only meat we’ll be gettin’ for a while is the kind we hunt for ourselves, and Bifur’s the only who can really hunt,” Dwalin said with a half-smile. He need have said no more on Bifur. It had been a week, and those patients who were going to survive were completely out of danger. Bifur was still breathing, though he hadn’t woken as of yet. The fact that he was alive was something of a miracle in of itself. Bofur still hadn’t recovered from his trauma. The lad scarce allowed Renna to leave him alone for five minutes, woke up screaming throughout the night, and scared with incredible ease.

“Maybe I’ll invite Bofur to walk with me today, just to give Renna some time to herself, Bifur’ll be riding in a wagon with the wounded,” Thorin sighed.

“Aye, that might be a good idea,” Dwalin said. The friends looked at Renna and Bofur, both had purple circles around the eyes, and Bofur was clinging tightly to Renna’s leg. They saw Holdir helping a very heavy Lora into a wagon, and then handing Dori up to her. He climbed in and settled the small dwarfling on his own lap.

“How long until Lora’s due?” Thorin sighed.

“I think Holdir said five days,” Dwalin sighed.

“We’ll have to be ready,” Thorin responded. With that, the new king stepped up and looked to small group of survivors of both Erebor and Azanulbizar. 150 dwarrows total, including the wounded, dwarrowdams, and dwarflings. 150 dwarrows, the only survivors of a once thriving city, now reduced to such a small number. Though it would be less mouths to feed, they were nearly defenseless. Oin was determined only to take up arms as a guard after the battle, Bifur had an axe in his head, and Dwalin could only do so much. Their other guards were either dead or wounded. Dwalin was looking for volunteers, and he would start training the twenty dwarrows on the morrow. He looked to his people, he kingdom, all assembled by the wagons. If he was to leave, it would need to be now. After this, he was responsible for their lives, for their food, for their defense, for their health. Thorin Oakenshield (as they were now calling him) was not one to run away from a problem. He stepped up to the front of the line and gave the signal to move forward. They walked that day, it was agreed that the village of Bree was the first one that they would visit. They would pick up more supplies there, sell about half their wares, and then continue on to the Shire. The hobbits, Thorin knew, had no need for weapons, being the peace-loving creatures they were, but they had a great use for things like cookware and farm equipment. Perhaps the hobbits would allow the dwarrow to camp on their borders. It was a fortnight’s journey to Archet, one village of a group that had Bree as its largest. It would not be an easy journey in the slightest, but it was that or go to the elves, and that Thorin would not do! He was ripped from his thoughts by Dwalin, who nudged him on the shoulder.

“Gettin’ late, and we have wounded,” Dwalin grunted. Thorin looked up in surprise, and found the sun was nearly at the high point.

“We stop here for two hours!” Thorin barked. The wagons groaned to a stop and healers jumped out. Fires were started for lunch and the pack of ten dwarflings in the group ran around to play, with the exceptions of Dori and Bofur. Thorin wondered what was wrong with Dori, the lad was usually the first to go and play with his friends. However, Dis beat him to the punch. She knelt down in front of the dwarfling and smiled.

“Do you not want to go play today, Dori?” she asked.

“Nope, I have to be a big brother now. Papa says that I have to be res-pon-sible and help Mam where she needs it,” Dori said proudly. Lora chuckled and ruffled the little dwarrow’s hair.

“That doesn’t mean that you can’t have fun yourself silly, it just means that you’ll have a very big job once the baby is born! Now, go play with your friends!” she laughed. Dori squealed and ran off to Bofur and Renna. Thorin saw him try to convince Bofur to leave his mother, and the lad was very slow to do so. However, Dori proved very persuasive and Bofur cautiously left his mother. Thorin went up to Renna and cleared his throat.

“Lady Renna, I was wondering if you would allow Bofur to walk with me today? A new face might do the lad some good, and to be frank my lady, you look very tired,” he said quietly. Renna sighed and rubbed her face.

“Thank you my prince, a break would be wonderful. Bofur has been very clingy lately, and with good reason, but with the babe…” she said exhaustedly. Thorin stopped her with a hand on her shoulder.

“I understand milady. I shall see if Bofur will walk with me,” Thorin said. Renna nodded and went to the cooking fires. When they moved out again in two hours, Thorin knelt down in front of Bofur before he went into the wagon with his mother. “Master Bofur, I must confess that I do not know the area quite as I ought, I was wondering if you could help me navigate?” Thorin asked. Bofur looked at his mother, who was getting into the wagon with Bifur. She nodded at the small dwarrow.

“Aye, my king,” Bofur said quietly. Thorin ruffled his hair and chuckled. He swung Bofur onto his back.

“Hang on tight, we’re supposed to be heading north,” Thorin instructed lightly. Bofur traveled on his back for the rest of the day, and when Bofur and his mother sat at the campfire that night, Bofur couldn’t stop talking about all the sights he saw. Renna threw him a grateful look and he smiled at her. For a week, Thorin repeated this activity, grateful that Renna seemed better-rested and Bofur a little less attached. However, all in the camp could see that Bofur missed his little sister. He would often run into Renna’s arms in the middle of the day in tears, for no reason. They were by the fire after the seventh day and Renna was preparing to braid Bofur’s hair.

“No Mam!” he cried.

“No?” she asked.

“Can-can I have two, to remember Bo’ by?” he asked quietly. Renna winced with the use of her beloved daughter’s nickname but didn’t show it to her son. She only smiled and parted his hair to accommodate two braids. Thorin smiled at the two and approached Holdir, who was sitting smoking his pipe while wife and son slept.

“My king,” Holdir greeted quietly.

“Holdir,” Thorin replied, “Has Lora not been due for two days?”

“Aye, it worries me too, how far to Archet?” he asked.

“Seven days, as we’re using the road. We’ll make the best time we can, but we need to be prepared if the officials don’t let us in the gate,” Thorin sighed.

“You think they won’t?” Holdir asked.

“Maybe, if they feel that we threaten their business,” Thorin said quietly.

“And so my son or daughter is born on the road,” Holdir growled.

“This is a sign my friend! A sign that even though our people will still have life, though we have no home!” Thorin protested.

“And that’s right, but an outdoor birth presents many...risks,” Holdir whispered, “Every night I dream of having to tell my son that no more shall his mother sing him goodnight and there shall be no promised brother or sister!” Thorin’s heart crashed against his chest.

“Your wife shall not die if I can help it,” he replied. Holdir gave a choked sob and Thorin wrapped the older healer in his arms. “She shall not died,” he choked out. And under the stars, Thorin held the stalwart healer, and knew that this was all he required. Loyalty, honor, a willing heart. Loyalty, like Balin and Dwalin, the ability to follow him anywhere. Honor, Dis, always by his side and supporting him, even if the crown she was supposed to honor had kicked her again and again. A willing heart, Renna and her family, who had given up even their loved ones to follow him. And when Holdir’s tears finally ceased, Thorin walked away to begin his own. Seven days passed without Lora giving birth, and Thorin didn’t know whether to see this as a blessing or a curse. When they finally reached the gate of Archet, many cheered.

“Will we stay at an inn Mam?” Dori asked.

“I don’t think so, little one,” Lora sighed. Thorin winced, Lora already knew that they didn’t have the money for it. Orla (with Gloin’s help, it was time he learned a trade) had a tight-fisted grip on their gold, but it could only be stretched so far. Quite frankly, he was surprised that it stretched this far. Though he wasn’t complaining, not at all. They had enough gold so that each family could have a tent, along with the healers, enough food for two months, and supplies for wares with some to spare. It was agreed that half of all profits would go to the settlement, forty to wares at the next stop, and the worker would keep the rest. While this didn’t leave much for the worker, most, if not all, their needs would be provided through the wares. When Balin, Thorin, and Dwalin approached the gate, a man with two guards came out.

“Greetings, I am Thorin son of Thrain, called Oakenshield. We seek to buy supplies and trade in your city,” Thorin said politely. Beside him, Balin’s mouth lifted into what was almost a smile.

“I am Eras, Mayor of Archet,” the man said.

“We have been on the road many days and are tired and hungry, with wounded. We would seek permission to camp outside your walls,” Thorin said.

“I must say that when we heard of your coming, we had some panic. I will give you three days to camp and buys wares, but I cannot allow you to trade,” Eras said.

“Why would this be?” Balin asked.

“While we may not be large, Archet has many merchants that would...dislike your presence,” Eras sighed.

“We would be only three days, and I give you my word of good conduct, on behalf of myself and my people,” Thorin said quietly.

“And this I accept, but you will not trade,” Eras stated.

“Then I hope that Bree shall find our wares more acceptable, and you may tell your merchants why their business has decreased,” Thorin stated imperiously. He turned and walked away, Balin and Dwalin following him.

“Thorin…” Balin said quietly.

“No, I will not have the village repeated over. We have food for two weeks and shelter for everyone. Bree is only ten days away, we’ll make it,” Thorin sighed.

“He’s right, we shouldn’t be there,” Dwalin stated.

“I am sorry my friends, but that we he sneered at us, I couldn’t,” Thorin said quietly. Dwalin grunted and Balin’s eyes saddened. They were approached the camp when Dori crashed into his legs.

“Mam’s havin’ the baby!!” he cried.

“Shit,” Dwalin breathed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!


End file.
